#emma announces cool things

[pinkeoni]

im so fucking excited for the curse you have no idea

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen. 

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened. 

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here. 

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?” 

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks. 

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?” 

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

-  It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

-  Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don’t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby. 

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests. 

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again –  Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃🍷🥂

[em1e]

万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?

there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken. 

even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy. 

but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older. 

and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak. 

days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind. 

you enjoy your view from the sidelines. 

“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal. 

he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.” 

you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer. 

“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.” 

you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.” 

there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing. 

“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?” 

you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!” 

“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”

“quiet!” 

draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away. 

and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another. 

until it isn’t. 

until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to. 

until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise. 

you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown. 

and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death. 

you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves. 

it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side. 

and then she dies, too. 

her death was the breaking point for them, you think. 

unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close. 

the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey. 

you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks. 

when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches. 

he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey. 

weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered. 

ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether. 

years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan. 

you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it. 

“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.” 

you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment). 

the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey. 

despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock. 

there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -

there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside. 

you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable. 

“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.” 

“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully. 

“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?” 

“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 

you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.” 

“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.” 

“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be. 

when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch. 

“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember. 

“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”

“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch. 

“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission. 

“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you. 

“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?” 

you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts. 

but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep. 

it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours. 

there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter. 

hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey 

a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number. 

it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note. 

two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment. 

almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid. 

you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor. 

imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant. 

two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over. 

“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?” 

you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .” 

there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-” 

“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine. 

“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer. 

“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.” 

“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but. 

“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.” 

you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.” 

“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s��what big brother’s are for.” 

and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really. 

you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin. 

he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib. 

“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.” 

“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.” 

“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.” 

despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition. 

and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son. 

you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of. 

except he’s known since you moved back. 

it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy. 

mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it. 

three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet. 

you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage. 

it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need. 

you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective. 

you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy. 

it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset. 

“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.” 

“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.” 

“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively. 

“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers. 

“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-” 

“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.

“four.” 

“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.” 

“because, ken-” 

shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?” 

he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop. 

“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare. 

“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble. 

your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it. 

you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start. 

of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better. 

you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male. 

it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer. 

you try again. 

nothing. 

you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right? 

the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath. 

“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.” 

you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.” 

“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention. 

“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed. 

“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?” 

“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer. 

“great, i’ll see you in five.” 

you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-” 

there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away. 

you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone. 

the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.” 

your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.

his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him. 

“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-” 

he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings. 

his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.” 

the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior. 

when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form. 

“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?” 

you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height. 

he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?” 

he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.” 

and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it. 

you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot. 

“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown. 

“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.” 

inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?” 

you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”

“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.” 

when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut. 

you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.” 

“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.” 

your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.

you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps. 

the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.” 

you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”

the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument. 

inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you. 

you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.” 

you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”

you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”

and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours. 

the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them. 

it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following; 

mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something. 

he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?

the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need. 

so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.

when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over. 

“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest. 

if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response. 

“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-” 

“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.” 

“i just need to know if they’re here-” 

he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.” 

he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”

with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up. 

at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold. 

the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves. 

the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet. 

after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?” 

“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up. 

“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?” 

“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.” 

“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?” 

he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.” 

though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown. 

“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him. 

ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?” 

“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face. 

ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue. 

“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.” 

“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.” 

“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.” 

instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.” 

“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”

you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-” 

“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.” 

“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-” 

ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.” 

you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear. 

don’t say a word. 

ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.” 

he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device. 

“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough. 

koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?” 

you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying. 

“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.” 

he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.” 

“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue. 

he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving. 

you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside. 

though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles. 

he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in. 

when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel. 

“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.” 

“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.” 

you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel. 

“we made sacrifices for you-” 

“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?” 

“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.” 

the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. 

the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building. 

“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.” 

“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you. 

“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle. 

“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.” 

you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors. 

the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest. 

you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are. 

it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you. 

“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking. 

your mouth dries at the sight. 

mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.” 

you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do. 

and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years. 

“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?” 

when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that. 

“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments. 

"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-” 

“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you. 

the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you. 

“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips. 

you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.” 

i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know. 

he knew. 

he knew. 

“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before. 

“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.” 

“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch. 

“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own. 

“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.” 

the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown. 

“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”

he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut. 

“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him. 

his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face. 

“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it. 

“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior. 

he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.” 

you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression. 

“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.” 

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 

“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap. 

you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement. 

“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip. 

he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer. 

“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.” 

the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts. 

“after?” 

“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. 

you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. 

“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies. 

his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach. 

you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much. 

too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him. 

“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.” 

[pterodactylterrace]

Do they understand the difference between perceived infidelity (Rhaenyra had an open relationship, but literally no one but her, Laenor, and their paramours knew that, so the general public, she is being unfaithful) and a widow having sex? Alicent’s husband is dead at this point. She’s not being unfaithful. Their vows were until death, and Viserys is dead. She can fuck whoever consents.

Is now a bad time to bring up Emma saying they also don’t like Rhaenyra and stating that she is a liar? I don’t care, I’m saying it anyway. Emma doesn’t much care for their character either, because they understand that she brings everything on herself.

Ok, cool. When was she given this opportunity? Was it when she was encouraging Viserys to make a political match with Laena, or when Viserys announced to the small council his intentions without ever asking for her input on marrying him? The king told her she would marry him. She never had a choice in the matter, unlike a certain someone else.

Rhaenyra was forced to marry Laenor because she ended her matchmaking tour months early, leaving several destinations unvisited. She threw a tantrum because she didn’t like the suitors she had seen thus far, incited a fucking murder, abandoned the tour months early and was spotted in a brothel with Daemon with her pants down. She had opportunities to find someone she could have legitimate heirs with. An opportunity provided by Alicent. It’s wild how people seem to forget that. Laenor was an absolute last resort to save face after she destroyed her own reputation. She threw away an opportunity to marry who she wanted, a choice most nobles don’t have. She brought this whole situation on herself by being an insufferable brat.

She never even made it to the part of the tour where she would have met Harwin, the man that ends up fathering her bastards. He is the heir to Harrenhal, the largest castle in Westeros. He is an accomplished knight. He is known as being the strongest man of his time. He is interested n her. Everything she was hoping for, had she just had a modicum of patience. Her arranged marriage to a homosexual man is no one’s fault but her own, and was brought on by her own actions. She is solely to blame for her position, and then she decided to birth obvious bastards, quite possibly the worst option she could have gone with as heir. The only thing worse than no heirs is obviously illegitimate heirs being pushed as trueborn. Now she has no heirs, and is also a liar to boot. Fantastic work!

[flowerandblood]

The Cherry Orchard (Oneshot)

[ students • modern!Aemond x fem!oc]

[warnings: just pure fluff my guys, safe space]

[description: She and Aemond are graphic design students, taking part in a competition for the best poster for a big festival in their city. When Aemond wins it, she begins to pay more attention to him, wanting to get to know him and befriend him. He remains completely indifferent, until he finds out that she can help him with a very important matter. Pure fluff.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

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A competition was announced at the graphics department of the Academy of Fine Art. The task was to create a poster for the symphony orchestra festival in their city. The festival itself was called Musical Architecture and received a large amount of funding, so the first three places were to receive a cash prize. The winning design was to be hung around the city and represent the entire festival. Bell decided that it was the perfect time to show off her skills.

She created a poster design in which a simple, minimalist house was composed of only musical notes. She added typography in the background and was pleased that it was a really cool, fresh idea. The whole thing looked simple and struck with a strong, legible sign, which was immediately associated with the name of the festival. She took the printout of her poster to her professor in whose design studio she was studying, and waited.

A council composed of professors of graphics and representatives of the festival gathered to choose the best works. After a few days the results were posted, which were available to everyone along with the classification. Bell, along with other classmates, ran up curiously to see who had won. She looked at the list and sighed heavily.

First Prize: Aemond Targaryen Second Prize: Emmet Colren Third Prize: Anna Bernard 1st Honorable Mention: Bell Stark Second Honorable Mention: Emma Arryn

"For fuck's sake!" She groaned, rubbing her face in fury.

She thought that fourth place was the worst place that could be because you are so close to the podium and you can only look at it. She would have taken this loss better if the overall winner, Aemond, hadn't been a year below her and the others on the list.

Aemond immediately caught her attention. Although she saw him only during woodcut classes, because the workshops were common for all years, she practically did not exchange a word with him. He only had three friends to hang out with, but otherwise he didn't talk to anyone.

She was embarrassed to pay attention to him because she thought that he was handsome. Unlike her other colleagues who favored a light, casual style of clothing, Aemond was always smartly dressed, almost as if he were a student of law rather than an arts.

Bell often looked over his shoulder, watching him laboriously cut out his stencils. All his works more or less referred to the works of the old masters. He created them with such finesse and processed them in such a way that he added his own, original, ironic commentary to them. His prints were always perfect and clean, unlike hers.

Her work was wild and chaotic, and while she also loved Renaissance and Baroque art, she didn't have the flair for capturing detail that he did. She was too expressive, her gestures were more emotional and ill-considered, which in the end added lightness to the whole work.

She liked to listen to him from the side. When he was talking to one of his friends, Isabel, he told various interesting anecdotes about religion, culture, art history. Bell felt like he knew everything, and thought that he must have read a lot.

She mentally agreed with everything that he said and could barely stop herself from approaching him and asking him about the various things that he was talking about.

She didn't dare.

Looking at him, she thought that she could make him happy. That if he wanted to, he would find in her a friend, listener and companion of his scientific quest. Embarrassed and ashamed at the thought, she gave up trying to get his attention.

The professors of the design studio decided that from this year, the semester reviews of all works from all years will be held jointly, and not, as before, in separate studios. Bell was going to see Aemond's work for the first time as his design that won the entire competition.

When he hung up his works and stood next to them, while the professor began to talk about what his student did all year and how many competitions he won, she thought that she would burn with shame. She felt that he deserved to win this and all the other competitions.

On his poster, their town hall building was partly depicted as a violin. He invented the whole form, so that it looked perfect and at first you didn't notice the difference between the building in reality, and what his poster depicted. Everything was simplified and enhanced with a strong, decisive red color, with the addition of white and black. The poster was fresh and brilliant.

His other works, performed as tasks assigned by his professor also impressed her. He referred in them to his roots, the folklore of the region he came from, using the technique of cut-outs, woodcuts and simple gesture illustrations to achieve the effect he needed. Bell thought that he was an outstanding student and was embarrassed to have her work shown.

During midterm break, Bell thought about a topic for her thesis, which she was due to start the following year. For years she has been doing genealogical research of her family, sending letters to the State Archives and parishes, looking for birth, marriage and death records of her ancestors.

She already had a whole catalog of these documents, and she also drew her great family tree. She thought that she would like to create a book, illustrated by herself, dedicated to her great-great-grandmother, Rosalia.

One day, sitting in a woodcut class, cutting out her stencil, she was talking to Isabel, whom she had liked since she met her for the first time. Aemond listened to their exchange without speaking, bent over his work.

Isabel finally asked Bell how her thesis preparation was going and why she had chosen her great-great-grandmother. Bell had told her about it eagerly.

“In the parish records of my great-grandfather, son of Rosalia, Joseph was listed as his father, but I was surprised that my great-great-grand mother's maiden name is the same as her husband's. So I started digging through the archives and found out that Rosalia had died unmarried, and her husband's name was made up. It turned out that she gave birth to six children in her lifetime as an unwed mother." She said excitedly as she made herself a cup of tea in the shared, electric kettle. Isabel looked at her in surprise.

"So who was their father?" She asked, surprised. Bell shrugged.

"I have no idea. My grandmother told me that she heard as a child that they were probably the children of some rich aristocrat, that Rosalia worked for. I have not been able to confirm this theory." She said as she poured her tea with hot water that had just boiled. She heard Aemond shift in his seat and clear his throat softly.

It wasn't until she glanced at him over her shoulder that she saw him staring at her. He stroked his chin as if debating whether to say something.

“My great-grandmother was locked up in a psychiatric hospital by her first husband and my great-grandfather during World War II, because he wanted to marry another woman. I later learned that experiments were carried out on patients in this hospital, and she disappeared after 1944. Her hospital was bombed, but I don't know if she was still there at the time." He said low, indifferent, calm. Bell stared at him in total shock at this sudden words, and Isabel was also impressed by the story.

"This is terrible!" She said, terrified. Bell thought hard.

"Have you tried writing to the National Archives in this area? You can even call them and ask if they have documents from this hospital. They will provide information to the family free of charge, some scans are also sent by e-mail for a small fee. If you want I can help you find out more." She said softly. He pursed his lips as he stared at his work, deep in thought.

"Yes, I would be very grateful." He spoke softly.

She felt a surge of great joy at his words and the fact that she might have a chance to get to know him better.

They agreed that Aemond would bring his laptop the next day and they try to work something out together. They managed to find several articles from those years and a historian who dealt with the case of this hospital. Bell called him, but put it on speakerphone, so Aemond could hear what he was saying.

“When the area was about to be liberated, the patients were forcibly transferred to a train with cattle cars and taken to the interior of the country. The train never reached its final destination – which was another hospital. When the hospital you are talking about was bombed, it was already a field hospital. Whatever happened to your friend's great-grandmother, we probably won't know, all the documents have been destroyed. Sorry, unfortunately I don't know anything else." The man said, genuinely concerned that he couldn't give them more specific information. Bell pursed her lips at his words.

“Thank you very much. Have a nice day." She said and hung up.

Aemond stared at his hands in silence, shocked. For a moment she didn't know what to say and looked away.

"I'm sorry." She said finally. He nodded and looked at her, his eye sad, tired, but also grateful.

"Thank you."

They had exchanged a few words once in a while since then, but Bell had the feeling that there was a wall between them. She decided, however, that she would not impose herself on him and would accept that he apparently had no need to become more familiar with her.

Isabel invited her to her vernissage, which was to take place in a few days at one of the famous local restaurants and pubs in one. Bell didn't want to go there, she was tired and completely immersed in her thesis. She decided to grant her a bit of rest, and finally she arrived at the agreed time.

She walked inside and immediately saw Isabel standing at the counter with Aemond, both of them holding beers. Isabel hugged her, happy that she had come.

Bell saw Aemond look at her as if he was scared of her. He turned his head quickly, taking another gulp of beer from the bottle. They greeted each other, and after a while the owner of the premises began the vernissage with a few words of introduction. Then Isabel spoke, and people dispersed to admire her works.

Bell was delighted when she noticed her classmates in the crowd of people - Emma and Peter, lovely, cheerful, talented people.

They sat together at one of the tables, ordering drinks, talking lightly on various topics. Bell saw Isabel and Aemond join several tables and sit down in a large group with their entire year.

For some reason, Bell felt sad at the thought that she probably wouldn't say a word to him for all evening. As she got up to go to the restroom and passed them, she saw Aemond glance at her from afar, but he turned quickly back to talking to his classmate. Bell thought that she would be heading home soon, heartbroken.

However, Isabel approached them and suggested, seeing that many people had already left, that the three of them join them and spend the evening with them. They gladly accepted this offer, took their chairs and sat down.

Bell decided that she wanted to get drunk to mask her sadness and desperation. She began to tell Isabel about her childhood stories, how she was a mafia boss in kindergarten and no one could take any toy from the shelf without her knowledge.

Isabel laughed loudly, and with her several people who listened with amusement. She saw that Aemond was looking at her. He stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face, and she thought with shame that he probably thought that she was a stupid idiot.

People slowly went home and said goodbye to everyone, but she didn't want to leave as long as he was there. Eventually the six of them stayed together and sat closer to each other, Aemond ordering another beer.

She could see that he was already slightly drunk, but he tried his best to show it as little as possible. After an hour, Isabel and her friend said that they were hungry and were going home to eat something. Emma and Peter also said that they had to go back.

In the end, they were alone.

"Was this city your first choice when you applied to Academy?" She asked curiously, wanting to strike up any kind of neutrally safe conversation. He looked at her in surprise, toying with his beer bottle.

“No.” He said finally. “I wanted to get to the capital, but they did not accept me. I failed my exams and ended up here, because only here was there still recruitment. It was probably my biggest failure in life.” He said casually, looking at his bottle absently. Bell rolled over in place and smiled warmly.

"I'm glad you didn't get in there." She said, before she could think what it sounded like. Aemond looked at her in shock, swallowed softly, and looked down, embarrassed. He did not answer.

She wanted to add something and deepen her thought, so that he wouldn't feel so awkward, but a waiter approached them, informing them that he was about to close the place. They had to quickly drink what they had and leave.

They settled outside the restaurant, looking at themselves uncertainly, not knowing, what to do.

"Which way are you going?" He asked, without looking at her. She pointed to the main, lit street on the right. He nodded and said that he was going there too.

They walked together, and for a moment there was a long, awkward silence between them which he broke.

"Simon is imposing on you?" He asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and she, surprised, giggled at his question.

Simon was an odd character in their year, who sought constant attention. He made himself an infinite artist, having a great opinion of himself. He also constantly tried to establish new artistic relationships, create a kind of bohemianism, be the leader of an artistic group that he would create himself.

“He offered to take pictures of me, using the 19th-century technique. I don't have any pictures of my great-great-grandmother, so I agreed to pose in period attire. I had to pose for him in his rented room and I have to admit, it was incredibly weird. He wanted me to come over later that evening to see him develop the photos, but I figured that he probably wanted me to see something else." She said amused, the alcohol buzzing in her head, making everything seem laughable to her. Aemond smirked at her words.

"You did right. He also texts me all the time, praising my works. He's attention seeking whore and he annoys me so much." He hummed low and she looked at him, happy and beaming that they were finally talking lightly.

She felt a pleasant shiver as their shoulders rubbed against each other once in a while. Even though they didn't have to, they walked very close to each other.

Bell looked at him, seeing the street that he should turn on. She knew roughly where he rented a room, because Isabel lived nearby and had told her once.

"Isn't your street over there?" She sputtered softly, pointing diagonally, her seeing blury. She saw him purse his lips at her words, repeat the mechanical movement of stroking his chin with his hand again. She thought that he did it when he was stressed.

"No. I'll feel better if I walk you home." He said after a moment. Bell felt a heat in her belly at his words, and it wasn't the alcohol.

They set off together, talking about light, non-committal topics. Aemond looked around her neighborhood, surprised as if he suddenly recognized where he was.

"Isn't there a church not far from here?" He asked low, evidently the alcohol had begun to imprint on him as strongly as it had on her. Bell nodded.

"Yes, right behind that house." She said, pointing her finger at the tower that was barely visible in the night sky. Aemond muttered under his breath, agreeing with her.

"I go there every Sunday." He said lightly, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought that he came so close to her home every week and she didn't know it.

He took her to the building itself. They stared at each other for a moment.

She couldn't help herself and just hugged him. He returned the hug stiffly and turned away, wishing her a good night. Bell returned to the apartment delighted.

Since then, she and Aemond had exchanged messages from time to time, often simply complaining about Simon and how he tormented them.

[Bell]: I feel like his mistress that he is cheating on you with.

[Aemond]: I feel the same, he fucks us as he wants. Should I be jealous?

[Bell]: About me or about him?

[Aemond]: Good question.

She pursed her lips as she read his words, her cheeks blushed. They used to say such sentences to each other from time to time, and she felt subconsciously, that even though they both pretended that they weren't, there was something going on between them.

They started going out together with his other friends to the city. Isabel always invited her, but now that she knew more of their year, she felt more at ease with all of them.

They sat down in one of the pubs, on a large, arched couch, in front of which was a big, round table. Even though there was plenty of room on the other side, Aemond sat down next to her. She took a sip of her drink, trying to hide the smile that appeared on their faces.

They sat there for several hours, talking about their professors, their classes and difficult assignments, unfinished projects and exams that were still ahead of them. The bartender finally told them that they were about to close, so they got up to leave. Aemond, Isabel, and Bell were walking in the same direction.

Bell instantly regretted her decision not to go to the restroom. She considered running into some bushes before her bladder gave out. She pursed her lips, feeling like she really wasn't going to last any longer.

"I need to go to the restroom." She mumbled softly, looking at them. Aemond looked at her in surprise and swallowed.

"You can come over, but I warn you, my roommates have turned this apartment into a pigsty." He said low and hesitant, embarrassed by his proposal.

Bell felt a heat in her lower abdomen at his proposal. The thought of being alone with him, at night, in his apartment.

"Stupidity, I live closer! Come to me Bell, I live around the corner already!” Isabel said cheerfully, not understanding that she had just ruined her entire plan.

Neither she nor Aemond could explain why Bell should go to him when she did live closer so Bell, disappointed, went to Isabel and returned home.

As she was going to bed, she saw that Aemond had shared with her via the app a link to a Facebook event about a lecture at the museum about Renaissance art, which they both found to be interested in. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that he had written another message underneath it.

"Do you want to come with me?"

Bell wondered for a long time if this was actually a date or not. She decided not, so she dressed the way she would dress for class - dungarees, a white turtleneck, and cherry-printed socks. She let her long, dark hair down.

When she got there, she was pleased to see that Aemond was already waiting for her at the entrance. She had heard him say once that he hated being late. They both showed up ahead of time.

They greeted each other and entered without a word, taking their seats next to each other. The lecture began, and she tried to focus as much as possible on what the woman was saying, not on the fact that he was sitting next to her.

After a few minutes, she decided that she could at least glance at him once in a while. She looked at him and saw that his eye was fixed on her socks. She blinked questioningly. He looked up at her eyes, a smirk on his face.

"Nice socks, cherry." He grunted and she blushed as she turned her head away. She felt her heart pounding hard, her fingers quivering slightly in her lap.

She tried to convince herself that she hadn't been falling in love with him in recent months, but she knew that wasn't true.

After the lecture, Aemond offered to walk her back again which she greadily agreed to. As they walked, she felt him slip something into her jacket pocket and she jumped in surprise, a smile lighting up her face.

"What's that?" She asked, sticking her fingers in her pocket, feeling the little ball with the stick on it. She took it out.

It turned out to be a strawberry lollipop.

“You once told Isabel that you didn't like cut flowers. That you'd rather men bring you lollipops, because you might eat them at least." He said, feigning indifference, looking at her expectantly as if to see if her reaction would be what he expected.

She pursed her lips, looking at him happily. She thought that she could kiss him now.

"Yes, thank you, it's a wonderful gift." She said, unwrapping the lollipop and immediately popping it into her mouth.

She could see him trying hard not to watch as she slipped it in and out of her mouth once in a while with a loud click of her saliva.

When they were in front of her building, she decided that she wanted to try. That she really likes him, really values him, really wants him. She thought it might work.

Christmas break was approaching and she knew that he would be leaving in a few days. She decided that it was the perfect time to ask him for what she had wanted to do for a long time.

"I'd like to write you letters when you're gone. Will you give me the address of your family home?" She asked uncertainly, her voice trembling slightly as she popped the lollipop into her mouth again.

She saw him tense all over, his gaze rising from her lips to her bright eyes. He swallowed softly, then forced out one sentence with difficulty.

"I'll give you my address only if you give me yours."

_____

My dears, those who know my private stories from my blog may have guessed, but - beware - this story is an exact reflection of how I met my husband-Aemond. Tomorrow we celebrate our second wedding anniversary. Everything I wrote in this fanfic really happened! Of course I condensed it and left out some important events to make it make sense as a plot, but that's how we fell in love.

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

[blamemma]

OMG emma, I swear I have been writing an Engineer!Max/Driver!Daniel story for the LONGEST time, I’ll try to summarize where it’s at here:

Okay so, let say Simon retires as Danny’s engineer a little early (sorry Simon ily) and Max starts as Danny’s race engineer in mid 2016. At first Danny thinks it’s a joke right? Like there’s no way this 17-yr-old kid is gonna be as good as Simon?? Except Max is GOOD. Better than good, actually. He’s the best. Because it’s MAX (and Max is Max). 2017 is a little bit of an adjustment period for them but then they GET IT RIGHT in 2018 and Helmut gets his wish: Danny wins the WDC that year and then his random RB teammate (idk who it would be and it’s not important for the story) wins it in 2019.

RB are on top and everything’s great. Danny and Max are so flirty on radio and F1 Twitter is losing it after every interaction between them, rumours are also abound in the paddock about them. But Max eventually ends up a little put out that everyone thinks they’re sleeping together (they most definitely ARE) because he also wants to be taken seriously, not always in the background, attached to Danny’s wins and loses.

He wants to prove himself basically, that he’s a good engineer because he just IS a good engineer and that it’s not just because it’s him and Danny. So in 2020 he jumps to Mercedes in a shock-exit a-la-Danny-to-Renault. Even more shook-ness he actually helps Lewis re-take the WDC that year, and the vibes are just RANCID at the final race. Like, Max is there with Lewis and Mercedes and can’t even look at Danny and Christian trying to console the team after the loss. F1 Twitter found dead, etc. etc. Danny hasn’t had a win in two years at this point (since he and max cooled things off in 2019) and finally snaps, and it’s announced by the next season that he’s moving to McLaren in 2021 (queue the ominous music)

There’s like six chapters of Max just sitting in Mercedes watching Daniel struggle in McLaren and just the LONGING and PINING is too much for everyone. They maybe break at some point before Danny leaves the grid and have really tender, desperate sex where Danny literally tells Max: “I miss you, I can’t do anything without you. You ruined my whole fucking career and my life, you know that?”

Cut to Danny being signed as RB’s third driver and then Max getting a call from Christian since he wants BOTH of his golden boys back. They’re in some office in Milton Keynes when Christian asks him outright: “how much?” and Max just stares at him because it’s not about the money at all. It never was.

“Of course, I would only come back to work with Daniel again.”

And Christian, to his credit, doesn’t even look surprised.

END SCENE!

ok u need to let me know when u publish this because i am hooked!!!

[eventinelysplayground]

This is my entry for @violettduchess and @lorei-writes shapes of love challenge. I actually wanted to write something like this a long time ago but couldn't pull it together then this challenge brought it back to mind. I also then saw a mood board with Yours (linked) on it that @lichtluv did and that song just let me take off running with it. This story goes under the prompts Storge (familial) and Mania (obsessive) love. Rio is having a hard time dealing with his feelings again after some news. Angst and some fluff, mentions of drinking WC approx 1564.

Why

The tavern was loud and boisterous tonight, almost too much so for Rio's liking but their alcohol was top notch and that was his primary goal. He wanted to drink so much he'd be numb, so much he might forget for a while.

When he had arrived he found the quietest darkest spot he could and ordered a bottle of gin. The first three bottles had disappeared fairly quickly and the fourth was close to joining them and yet he still wasn't anywhere near numb, was still thinking about Emma. About how despite everything he still wanted her.

How does it still hurt this much? I know it was my idea for her to marry my idiot brother but…if I could go back I'd beat myself up for being so stupid!

“Hey you wanna hear somethin?”

“Hear what?”

“Her Majesty is with child!”

“What!? Where did you hear that from? I ain't heard no announcement or nothin.”

“Keep your voice down! When his Majesty visited the shipyard yesterday I overheard him talkin to some of the guys and he mentioned it without thinkin. Threatened em all to keep their mouths shut for now if they knew what was good for em.”

“Well damn! We can look forward to a few days…”

Rio sighed at the men's words before downing the last of his glass finishing off the fourth bottle. He waved down a nearby barmaid and ordered two more bottles despite her protests of him having had a lot already.

That was the last thing I wanted to hear about tonight and this is nowhere near enough alcohol. Stupid Silvio and his big mouth, bet he let it slip on purpose. He had such a cocky, arrogant smile on his face when he heard that Emma had told me. Why the hell did that jangler have to go after her, he could have had any woman he wanted, why did he have to want Emma…

Just then the barmaid arrived with another large bottle of gin. Rio glared at her, his normally sky blue eyes turned as deep as the ocean with pain and uncharacteristic anger.

“I said two bottles.”

Rio's voice came out in a harsh growl and the barmaid flinched.

“I'm sorry I'll get the other one right away.”

Rio didn't even bother with his glass this time and lifted the bottle to his mouth taking a huge swig when he felt a hand grab his shoulder and squeeze tightly.

“Right, that's enough for you.”

“Get lost you dumb jangler!”

“What did you just say to me!?”

Silvio wrapped an arm around Rio's neck and hauled him to his feet.

“Oww let me go!”

“Not a chance.”

Rio struggled against Silvio's grip on him as he led him towards the door but his brother was always physically stronger than he was.

Just great as if I hadn't had enough today…

Rio saw Silvio nod at the barkeep quickly before leading him out the door and into the streets. The cool night air felt like a slap in the face to Rio and he cursed under his breath.

“Quit whining ya mutt.”

Silvio loosened his grip a bit on Rio's neck and he took advantage of it to push his brother off him.

“What the hell are you doing here Silvio? Actually I don't care, just get out of my sight!”

“You'd have to be able to see me first.”

Rio glared at his brother, his eyes filled with hatred.

“I wish you'd never gone to Rhodolite then I wouldn't have to see your stupid face every day!”

Silvio sighed and grabbed Rio by the collar dragging him into an alleyway. Before Rio knew it Silvio was dunking his head into a barrel of water, he flailed his arms for a minute before his head was pulled back out of the barrel.

“What the fuck Silvio!? What are you-”

Rio's words were cut off when his head was once again dunked into the barrel but this time he felt Silvio giving his head an extra shove. His head surfaced and he gasped and coughed turning around to face his brother once he had released him. He had wanted to hit him, to scream at him but the chilly water and cold air was doing the trick and instead he just sank to the ground leaning back against the bricks. He brought his knees up resting his arms on them and he looked up at Silvio but this time instead of anger it was pain in his eyes.

“Why couldn't it have been me? I loved her for years and she never loved me back. She knew you less than a month before she fell madly in love with you, why wasn't I enough for her?”

Rio placed his forehead on his arms, he didn't want to give Silvio the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He didn't want to hear the speech he knew was coming, he just wanted to block it all out. Silence fell for a while and then he sensed Silvio sit down beside him, he turned to look at his brother but he was just sitting there staring at the opposite wall. It wasn't often his older brother was in a listening mood, not to him anyways and Rio seized the opportunity.

“I used to picture my life with her, you know? Her falling in love with me, getting married, having lots of kids, even growing old together.”

Rio saw Silvio's jaw tense out of the corner of his eye.

“I knew she wasn't in love with me but I thought it was just a matter of time. She may not have been mine but I was definitely hers and I couldn't wait for her to realize she was meant for me, for her to have that look in her eyes. Then when I finally got to see that look I yearned to see in her eyes she wasn't looking at me, she was looking at you and it wasn't fair. I really did think you'd just play around with her and use her before breaking her heart and I was ready for that, ready to pick up the pieces but I should have known better. You might be an ass but deep down you aren't a bad guy Silvio… I guess this is what I get for never caring about anything or anyone for all those years isn't it?"

“Valerio…”

“Oh come on, I know you thought it at some point too. I wanted so badly to be able to change her mind but when I couldn't I tried to be happy for her, for both of you. I made it through your engagement and the wedding but I couldn't push through it this time. Why can't I move on from this, from her?”

“I don't know, but I'm sure somebody else will come along eventually. You always had women flocking around you at parties and stuff.”

“Ya but I never wanted any of them. I wanted Emma. I still want her but you had to come along and mess everything up and you get to have everything I dreamed about for years.Why did you have to fall in love with her?”

Rio shifted and turned to look at his brother and he was stunned, Silvio had an expression on his face he'd never seen before. The closest he could come to describing it was guilt and anguish but that wasn't quite it and it made his own heart ache for him. Silvio turned to face Rio and the brothers just stared at each other for a long time.

“I'll never apologize Valerio, it wouldn't be right to but… I promised myself I'd spend my life protecting and cherishing the woman you love. I'll make sure she's always happy and never regrets a thing.”

Rio may have been angry at Silvio but the truth was he knew his brother already did all those things and more, she was always smiling and happy.

“I know, as much as it still annoys me she fell in love with you just as much as you fell in love with her. The choice was always hers to make and it just wasn't me. I know you'll do everything and anything for her, you already do. Thank you for that Silvio.”

“You're thanking me now? Wait...are you still too drunk?”

Silvio reached out to grab Rio's head but he ducked away just in time.

“No! I'm fine, geez you were finally acting like a decent big brot-”

Rio stopped talking when he felt his brother pulling him in towards him and rustling his hair. None of them were ever very good at talking about their feelings. Silvio had always been the worst at it though so these simple gestures spoke volumes.

“Come on, let's get you home and in bed.”

Silvio stood first and extended a hand to Rio who took it and pulled himself upright. The two started walking out of the alleyway when Silvio suddenly stopped.

“What?”

Silvio turned around to face Rio and grabbed him by the ear .

“Ow ow ow!”

“If you tell anybody about what happened here tonight I'll take you out to sea and toss you in the middle of the ocean.”

“Ow Alright! I won't say a thing, now let go already you dumb jangler!”

[gaybitchfx]

yippee btw when i said this is long i didnt (did not)mean write is immideatly saying this just in case.also can i ask for reader in this to be black?i barely see anything w a stated black reader but its cool if not. ok so basically it is draken bi panic. so what i had in mind was reader and emma being close childhood friends like the jump hug and cheek kisses when they see each other type close. and so one day mikey and draken go to pick emma up from school only to see her hugging some guy (whos the reader) and ofc draken gets jealous bc who is this guy being so friendly w the girl he likes?so emma introduces them which makes draken relax.and eventually some time passes and draken and reader become good friends to the point of draken being comfortable enough to fully let his guard down.but after becoming friends and comfortable with each other draken again starts to feel jealous whenever emma amd reader hang out but cant figure out why since he knows that theyre like siblings (:3) and other things like getting bit flustered (not obviously ofc) around reader and cathing himself thinking about him when he sees something draken thinks he might like. so one night draken is laying in his bed wondering what is going on w him until it finally hits him that hes in love and bi panic ensues. and maybe the ending could be a sweet confession ? ty and again im sorry its so long🙏

-🍓 Character(s): Draken

-🍓 Type of reader: M!Reader (black male reader✨✨)

-🍓 Category: SFW

-🍓 Warning(s): None

-🍓 Note: FINALLYYYY A SPECIFIC TYPE OF READERR AND HES BLACK NONE THE LESS LETS GOO 😭

-🍓 Edited: ❌

“She said she’d be here soon, so where is she?” Mikey questioned nobody in particular as he looked at the nonexistent watch on his arm.

He squinted his eyes a bit till he saw Emma. “Oh, there she is!” He announced and pointed to where she stood.

Draken opened his mouth to say something only to see you hugging Emma and rocking her side to side with a smile.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Draken grumbled as his face turned sour as he stared at you and Emma. “No clue. I think he’s a foreigner.” Mikey shrugged his shoulders as the two of them walked over to you and Emma.

“Oh! Speak of the devil, hey Mikey, Draken!” Emma said with a smile as she released you from her grip. “Never hugging your ass again, you tried breaking my back!” You shouted at her and rubbed the middle part of your back.

“Oh hush!” She laughed and nudged you. “Sooo, who’s this? Your boyfriend?” Mikey asked, genuinely curious. Draken only sucked his teeth when Mikey asked if you were her boyfriend. Emma looked at you and you looked at Emma before the both of you burst out laughing while holding onto one another.

“Hell no! She my bestie.” You exhaled after calming down. “I’d never date her ever.” “Honestly!” Draken had seemingly relaxed by this newfound information but still didn’t like how touchy the two of you were. “Oooh, that makes sense! But how come you’ve never told us about him?” Mikey asked.

You let out a dramatic gasp and placed a hand on your chest where your heart is. “We’ve been friends since we were six and you NEVER told them about me?! Unbelievable!” You huffed and folded your arms, turning your back to face her.

“Oh come on Y/n! It never crossed my mind to tell them about you!” Emma whined as she hugged you and swayed your body side to side while giggling. “Could you forgive me pleaseee?”

“Bitch- fine.” You rolled your eyes jokingly. “So your name is Y/n? That’s a cool name, right Draken?” Mikey looked over at Draken who still had that same sour look on his face. “Hell wrong with his ass? He makin the face my nana makes when she’s pissed at my mama.” You raised a brow and looked at the blond. “I guess,” Draken said, ignoring your comment.

“How about you chill I already said I didn’t want your girl she looks like the backside of a horse-” “Rude!” “Fine, the backside of a donkey.” You corrected yourself and earned a hit on the arm by Emma. “That’s even worse!” She huffed making you laugh.

“You can’t call me anything and you know ittt!” You dragged out with a grin. “She’s not my- never mind.” Draken exhaled through his nose.

“Sure sure.” Since then, Emma has invited you over to her house or any events she was having allowing you to get to know both Mikey and Draken better, but mainly Draken since he was more mature than Mikey and he seemed like the little brother that would get you in trouble for anything.

Due to you both getting to know each other more, the two of you grew to become pretty good friends, so good Draken eventually got comfortable enough to let his guard down and even joke around with you. “Wait so you two became friends just because you both hated each other at first?” Draken asked you to confirm if he was correct or not.

“Mhm! Well my mama forced me to be friends with her, but I don’t mind one bit, she is a fun girl.” You said as you began mixing the large scoops of ice cream you had in a bowl to make ‘ice cream soup’ as you called it.

A little weird to others, but who gives a damn? “She even had me make brownies for her ass as an apology gift. If I didn’t then my mama would’ve whooped my ass so hard I’d turn into a colorless roach, in other words white.” You said with a giggle before eating some of your ice cream.

Draken opened his mouth to say something but just kept it closed. “I’m backkk!” “Yay, the lint roller is back.” “I will HURT you Y/n!” You cackled as you ran around the room away from Emma.

Draken watched the two of you with a small smirk. His smirk faded a little bit when seeing you two so close, he should be used to it by now since you two are basically like siblings. You even argue with her as if you were siblings.

And he knew that yet felt a sense of jealousy and was slightly bothered by how close Emma was toward you, no longer the other way around. Even seeing your phone's Lock Screen as you and Emma with funky little edits upset him. Of course, Draken just brushed that aside since he didn’t know he was feeling jealous toward Emma and not you.

“My leg! My leg!!” You screeched as Emma was seated on your back while pulling your leg backward. “Say you’re sorry!” “What do you take me for?!” “An idiot!” You screamed more as she pulled your leg further making Draken stiffen a laugh as he watched the two of you fight for a bit before intervening.

“See! Even Draken is sympathetic towards me against that right?” You said as you hid behind him and held his arm.

He stiffened up a bit a slowly nodded his head. Ever since then, being in the same room as you was difficult, but it was worse when you’d playfully punch him or do anything that just involved touching.

He wasn’t one for many expressions but my god did he get flustered, it never showed but deep deep DEEP down he was screaming. “What do you think Emma would want?” Mikey asked as he looked at the many plushies the store they were in had. They had big ones, tiny ones, normal-sized ones, basically anything.

Draken shrugged as he looked around only to spot a fox plushie that had a little (favorite color) top hat and sunglasses on its little face. As soon as he saw that his mind instantly went to you which made him stop in his tracks as he stood there wide-eyed.

Was he just thinking about you? His cheeks suddenly had a very faint pink to them as he rubbed in between his eyes. “Hey, I’m going to head back home. I’m a little tired.” Draken said as he looked back at the fox plushie for s bit and looked at Mikey.

“Alright, get home safely!” Mikey said before wandering off into the store. When Draken left he ended up buying the plushie, he’d feel guilty for not buying something as cute as this.

When he got home he just stared up at his ceiling, a couple of thoughts passing through his mind but a specific one ‘spoke’ louder than the other.

“Why am I always thinking about him..” Draken mumbled before sighing as he began trying to figure out the reason.

First, he had feelings for Emma till you came along, his feeling for Emma was still there but not as bold as they used to be. He looked over at his nightstand that had the cute plushie propped on it.

“He’s not even that much of a good guy, yeah he’s cute, funny, has a nice sense of clothes, honest, and…” He trailed off as he covered his flustered face with his hands. And then it dawned on him. He’s fallen in love with you.

Draken wasn’t even able to fall asleep that night as him knowing he loves likes you played on a loop in his head.

A day later and he still had yet to tell you, surprisingly it was harder than he thought it was. So he decided to tell Mikey hoping he could help in any way. “I knew it!!” Mikey shouted as he quickly got up. “I knew you loved him!” Mikey clapped his hands.

“Was it obvious?” Draken grumbled. I’ve been your best friend for years now, to other people it isn’t obvious. But are you going to tell him?” Mikey asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

“I…don’t know. He might not like me in that way and only sees me as a friend.” Draken sighed and rested his head on the palm of his hand, a slight frown on his lips.

“He’s literally..” Mikey placed a hand on his hip and did the gay hand sign with a ‘you never knew that?’ look. “Wait he is?” “Well pansexual. I get this kind of info from Emma.” Draken exhaled as he placed a hand on his heart, he just might have a chance.

“How about you go confess to him now? I think he and Emma are still at the park.” Mikey said and didn’t even bother letting Draken answer as he just dragged him to the location. “Hey!” Mikey exclaimed to the two of you once he and Draken both arrived.

“Heyy!” You waved back as you twisted the swing Emma was on before releasing it, taking a couple of steps back as she twirled around while laughing before coming to a stop, her now dizzy.

“I thought you guys were staying home.” Emma giggled as she got off the swing holding onto the chains for support.

“Well, Draken has something to tell Y/n so I thought I might take you to go get some ice cream,” Mikey said as he helped navigate Emma to the ice cream shop.

“Whatcha gotta say?” You asked once the two of them left, taking a seat on the swing Emma sat on previously, Draken standing in front of you. Draken cleared his throat as he stared at you for a few seconds before opening his mouth to speak.

“So, I uhm..want to tell you something that may or may not ruin our friendship in a good or bad way..” Draken cleared his throat as he fiddled with the bag he had in his hand.

“Ok? Hurry up and tell me, man.” You raised your brow and looked at him, waiting for what he had to say. He inhaled and exhaled a few times before speaking again. “I like you..” Draken finally said making you raise both brows, surprised.

“No...I love you. I love your laugh, your humor, and the way you’re brutally honest and don’t give a damn about what people think or say to you unless it’s about your family or friends… I love everything about you. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. So please, will you date me, Y/n ?” Draken spoke as he took out the same cute little fox plushy from the bag, his cheeks red from embarrassment.

“Oh wow, now that’s a confession.” You said with a slight laugh. You took the plushy from his hand and held it close.

“Yeah sure, I’ll date you. But I’m not the best partner so I hope you understand that.” You mumbled and slightly cooed at the fox. “I don’t care, I just want you,” Draken said with a small smile. “Can I..kiss you?” Draken asked and you nodded your head.

“I don’t mind..” You mumbled as Draken began moving closer and closer till you both were now kissing. You held onto the chain of the swing with one hand while Draken held the other chain with one of his hands.

You closed your eyes and relaxed your body completely, feeling comfortable around your new lover, Draken.

-🍓tags: @jkloserdazai @reallyromealone @secretivemessenger @lostsomewhereinthegarden

[jackhues]

cool - (pricey shots and brick wolls! au)

note: takes place in 2019

"give me five minutes, i'm coming," saroyah tinker, defenseman for the toronto six and one of rowan's closest friends, said as soon as she picked up.

"i've been here for ten minutes," rowan groaned, tapping her steering wheel. "the desk guy is giving me a dirty look."

"also, i'm hungry," elain chuli, goalie for the toronto six, added from the back seat.

"didn't you eat a grilled cheese for breakfast?" emma woods asked.

shiann darkangelo, captain of the team, rolled her eyes with a little smile on her face.

rowan, saroyah, elain, emma and shiann were the first few confirmed members the of the phf's newest team - the toronto six. the inaugral season was going to take place next year, but the team was coming together already.

the five girls had been invited to the toronto marlies camp, to learn and teach new drills and practice with the team. it wasn't the maple leafs or the nhl, but it was still a big deal to them. and if there was one thing rowan hated, it was being late.

"i'm here," saroyah announced, getting into the passenger seat. "okay, we can go now."

"if you were any later, i'm pretty sure rowan would've left you," shiann laughed, causing the other girls to giggle as well.

"i was thinking about it," rowan admitted, turning onto the familiar toronto roads and making her way to the marlies training facility.

the girls sang along to rowan's playlist, made jokes, and laughed as they made their way. finally, rowan reverse parked into the parking lot.

"you should learn to forward park," emma commented, opening the trunk to grab her bag and gear. "there's gonna be a day where you can't reverse park into an empty spot."

"unlikely," rowan grinned, grabbing her own bag. "and at least i can park, not like the rest of you."

"it's not that we hate parking, we hate driving in the city," elain corrected.

"traffic's a pain," saroyah agreed.

emma and shiann nodded in agreement.

rowan stayed silent. she loved toronto because she made it her home. there was kelowna, there was montreal, but those were places her family had taken her. she loved them, yeah. but toronto was where hockey had taken her, and she chose it. so she made herself love every part of the city - even the dreadful traffic.

eventually, the girls had changed into their hockey gear, switching topics to different drills they wanted to try out, to moves they wanted to perform on the ice. they were hockey players after all, their conversations didn't go far from the sport for long.

"welcome," an older man walked up to them. "you guys must be from the toronto six, correct?"

they exchanged introductions, before making their way on the ice. pucks were littered on the ice, along with materials for puck handling drills.

"you guys can start to get comfortable on the ice," he told them. "the guys should be getting on the ice soon."

as if summoned, one of the marlies goalies began skating onto the ice.

"joe, over here!" the older man waved him over. he turned to the girls, "this is joseph woll, our rookie goalie. joe, these are players from the toronto six."

they took turns introducing themselves.

"rowan price," she nodded in the goalie's direction, smiling softly.

she always had a bit of a soft spot for goalies, mainly because of her uncle. and this goalie was a rookie, which made him even more endearing.

"it's nice to meet you guys," he smiled at them, before making his way to the net.

the other marlies players slowly made their way onto the ice, dropping by the girls to talk different drills.

rowan stuck to some puck handling drills, impressing some of the marlies players.

"have you tried shooting on one of the guys yet?" trevor moore, one of the marlies players asked.

"nah, not yet," rowan shook her head. "don't want to embarrass anyone this early in practice."

"ah don't worry about that," he laughed. "light 'em up all you want."

rowan grinned a little, finishing up her stick handling drill before skating off to where emma was. the two girls talked about some of the new drills they'd tried out, and how they were thinking of implementing those in their game.

rowan kept her eyes on the rookie goalie, number 35: joseph woll. he was pretty good, stopping a number of shots. he made little movements, tracking the puck long after he cleared it. the way he played seemed so familiar to her, but she was pretty sure she'd never seen him before today. it was weird.

"you should try shooting on him," emma told her. "he's pretty good for a rookie."

rowan nodded at the second statement, before grabbing a puck and getting ready to go against him. she felt like she was ten years old and back in her driveway, going 1v1 against her uncle after school.

she held the puck until the last second, before letting it go, right past his glove and in the net.

emma cheered at the goal, skating over to hug rowan.

rowan laughed at her excitement, continuing with a few more drills. she talked with different players, practicing new drills she never even heard of. she scored a few more goals on the different goalies, before skating over to the rookie she couldn't stop thinking about.

"joseph, right?" she asked, making her way to him as he stretched out. "you were great in net, you sure you're just a rookie?"

he laughed, taking his helmet off and putting it on the bench. the practice was nearly over anyways.

he has really pretty eyes, rowan noticed. she blinked, surprised by her train of thoughts.

"i'm just a rookie," joseph promised. "and call me joe. you were insane out there, by the way. i had no idea which way you were going to shoot until the shot was in the back of the net."

rowan laughed a little, "thanks. i grew up playing hockey against my uncle, so i had to develop a pretty quick release. the way you track the puck is good, it goes against my release. but i'm a little more familiar playing with goalies who track the puck that way."

"i actually learnt that from watching carey price play," he told her. "he was my favourite player growing up."

rowan stared at him, laughing a little bit. "yeah, he was mine too."

"seriously?" joe asked, doing a double take. "a goalie?"

"a goalie," she agreed. "he was my favourite. after him, i'll take sidney crosby. but carey price was my favourite player. still is. it's why i wear the same number."

she turned around, showing him the 'price/31' jersey she was wearing. joe blinked, realizing a few things at once.

"carey price is your uncle?" he asked, an almost awestruck expression on his face. "oh- that's so cool!"

"yeah," she agreed, knowing that her uncle was one of the coolest goalies of all time. she had a feeling this rookie could turn into something himself. "it's really cool."

[jalwyn21]

Do you think this was just a mistake or...👀? I don't wanna be hopeful but you never know...

https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/film-tv/a61439484/kinds-of-kindness-costumes-interview-2024/

The filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos loves to collect people. He cast Emma Stone in his films The Favourite, Poor Things, and the new Kinds of Kindness, in theaters everywhere now. He’s brought Joe Alwyn along for several films, too, and his commitment to crew is no different. Although Kinds of Kindness marks the costume designer Jennifer Johnson’s first collaboration with Lanthimos, she has already been brought back for next year’s Bugonia (also starring Stone and Alwyn), which is currently in production. “Yorgos only works with nice people, and I think that’s why I was invited back,” Johnson told us when we spoke with her recently.

This is the sypnosis for Bugonia:

Teddy, a paranoid and bereft young man, is a keen beekeeper. He believes that aliens from Andromeda have set about destroying the natural world around him. Alongside his dutiful cousin Don, they kidnap a powerful pharmaceutical executive, Michelle, to prevent total disaster. The film is a blend of dark comedy, tense thriller, eco-fiction, sci-fi, and sharp societal critique.

I think it's obvious that Teddy is Jesse and Michelle is Emma and the role of Don is a supporting character.

Yeah, I saw that, but I just assumed it was a typo. They meant to say Jesse but wrote Joe.. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️I mean, if Joe is in Bugonia why not take the opportunity to announce it during the press for KOK. 🤔

But, yeah, it would be cool to have Joe play Don, Jesse's cousin

Also, LMAO at the note "This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity." You sure about that? 😹😹😹

It's funny anyway. If they just confused Joe for Jesse is LOL. If this is how they accidentally announced Joe is in the film even more LOL 😹😹😹

[amageish]

So we got some more Exceptional X-Men info... and I have some thoughts!

First off, the press release didn't provide pronouns for the new characters which is unfortunate as I really would like to know how to refer to them! Still, their designs continue to look cool - and I hope Melee keeps their unique body type across different artists.

The solicit did have one tidbit that stands out to me though...

EXCEPTIONAL X-MEN begins with Kitty trying to get as far away from all things X as she possibly can. After the actions she took during FALL OF X, Kitty craves normalcy and takes a job as a regular-degular bartender. She’s definitely NOT getting ready to head up an all-new team of wayward young mutants while avoiding the watchful gaze of Emma Frost. Nothing but work, dating and staving off depression. That’s it. Let’s see how long it lasts…

It looks like Pryde is going back to being a bartender! It was previously announced she'd be a barista, but it seems like they've switched back to full-on Mekanix vibes, which I am quite excited by - and feels pretty appropriate to this story?

For reference, Kitty Pryde became a bartender in a 6-issue mini-series written by Claremont in 2002/2003...

The books was partially Claremont grappling with the changes to the status quo made by Grant Morrison, whose work he did not agree with at the time... but his method of processing these changes was sending Pryde back to Chicago where she tried to be "normal" while processing the trauma caused by the destruction of the mutant nation of Genosha...

So uh. In other words, this is basically Exceptional X-Men's premise 20 years earlier - it's also about Pryde in Chicago grappling with identity and trauma related to a mutant island's destruction.

Comic storylines are always cyclical, for better and for worse, but this is a really interesting one to revisit IMHO! I am very curious how Ewing will tackle the subject matter - and especially the idea of what mutants have the privilege to pass as human and hide their mutant identity...

Mekanix is also, uh, a pretty notable book in the queer history of Kitty Pryde too, as it starts her relationship with Xuân Cao Mạnh... When a building collapses around them, they nearly share a kiss before being attacked by sentinels - causing Kitty to state that people like them can never relax their guards, which feels like an intentional double-reference to their mutanthood and their queerness...

This moment is also relatively unique among Kitty Pryde queer moments as it has consistently been followed up on? New Mutants Vol 2 has Xuân talk about to Dani, without naming Kitty specifically.

Liu's Astonishing X-Men also references it, with Kitty continuing to be close to Karma and her siblings...

And Trungles' Karma in Love mentions it pretty directly - with Karma apparently having some complicated feelings about Pryde that she doesn't want to address... as she straight-up just runs away when she sees her.

ANYWAY. The point being: This book could also be a good one to explore Pryde's potential queer identity, if Marvel Corporate is on-board with them actually, uh, doing that now...

[annamariemir4ge]

thinking about how sustainable kuumaa's tour costume actually is

so to recall they wore the blue jumpsuits during the summer tour with the imprinted band font and logo matching the album cover of hyvikset ja pahikset. their crew also wore matching ones in black.

then for the autumn tour they introduced a modification of these outfits, covering the band font with a red cloth, leaving the band logo alone.

notice that their logo is the only thing they left to show their identity as a band in singles post-h&p

based on the new visuals they released so far, red will be the theme color for the new era. the blue and red jumpsuits they've been using in the autumn tour indicates the transition from h&p to the third album.

now during the jäähalli gig announcement, they're seen wearing new jumpsuits in red and black. they also wore them during the emma gaala nominations and their recent ylex otto performance. it's already clear that these are what they're going to wear in gigs and live appearances during the new album next year.

at first I thought they custom made a new set of jumpsuits but I realized they probably got some set from the ones worn by the crew and modified them with the red cloth.

it's just cool to see how they managed to build a visual identity for the past few months and the next while not costing them much !

[lovecanbesostrange]

ouattober2023 Day 7: Fav Side Chara

Mulan (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I think Once Upon A Time has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to great characters everywhere. I may not be a fan of a lot of the way romances got handled, and I have opinions about the untapped potential left and right, but the characters we got to witness are pretty amazing. That's why even when I didn't care about the larger plot, I always had fun with this show. So many cool characters. But making me pick one who left an impact on me with not much screentime (well, at least I have 12 eps) and had me screaming for more - it's Mulan. Of course she does have the advantage of having one of the best animated Disney Princess movies.

Although that's a funny thing here. Where known fairytales got a little twist here and there, Mulan's backstory isn't really touched upon. She wears her armor, is a well-trained soldier/warrior and now travels a lot. It's like "we know you know the movie, let's get on". The one re-occuring thing we get is this fabulous moment when she takes off her helmet and people go "omg you're a girl" and she gets to correct them "woman". A+ Being viewed as a dude and if not getting underestimated is her thing.

An outstanding moment I love about Mulan? In 2x06 Tallahassee Emma tells her to cut down the beanstalk should she not be back within ten hours and also to do everything to get Snow back home to Storybrooke. It's the classic situation doing something dangerous while the clock is ticking. And usually a hero will be like "five more minutes", everything is very close. But we need moments of real tension to undercut the usual. And Mulan is so perfect for this. Because she will honor this agreement to the letter. She is one to ask to follow difficult orders. Snow actually does tackle her to the ground and yes, Emma arrives a few minutes late, then all is fine. But this is the cornerstone of Mulan as a character - give her a task, she will do it, with everything she has. It could even be something detriment to her own happiness or well-being. A character trait that can be a strength and a flaw at the same time. The range! We could have seen this later on if Mulan had stayed. She could have been a person to side with "the reasonable option" against the group of hope-loving heroes even.

That doesn't mean Mulan is uncaring. We got to witness how she fell in love with Aurora, we know she has a soft side. Sure, she protected Aurora, because she promised Philip to take care of her, but that situation became very personal. And omg that scene when Mulan gives Aurora her heart back... has any heart been placed back with such care? Such a sensual scene!

It's soul-crushing they kinda did this to Mulan twice. Robbing her of finding love, watching on as somebody under a Sleeping Curse gets True Love's Kiss, never experiencing that magic herself. But apart from that, when she gets her heart crushed (only figuratevily) in 3x03 Quite a Common Fairy and announces she'd join Robin Hood's band - I did hope she would. She could have been an excellent addition. Especially since the Merry Men could have used more to do (just like the dwarves). That would have been such a fun mix and overall a great way to eventually get Mulan to Storybrooke. That ep did make it clear that Robin would have a bigger role, attaching Mulan to him seemed logical.

I also like that Mulan's first instinct is to not trust people. She sees Neal, she recognized the style of clothing and she is suspicious (great contrast to Aurora's reaction). But Neal wins her over and boom, once Mulan is in your side, you can relax. Such a good partner for whatever errand you have to run. Which is why it makes sense that when Ruby asks if Mulan wants to join her on a search for werewolves, Mulan says yes. (Not like she has anything better to do.) Mulan craves a purpose. Imagine somebody would have introduced her to colorful textmarkers and color-coded itineraries. Belle showed her how useful information out of a book can be, they could have solved more situations together.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Ideology in anarchism

Anarchism is a vibrant and complex tradition. At their most joyful, anarchist currents support common notions such as mutual aid, autonomy, direct action, and solidarity while refusing ideological closures. At the same time however, anarchists have always grappled with ideology. The early twentieth-century anarchist feminist Emma Goldman shared this experience in her autobiography:

At the dances I was one of the most untiring and gayest. One evening a cousin of Sasha [Alexander Berkman], a young boy, took me aside. With a grave face, as if he were about to announce the death of a dear comrade, he whispered to me that it did not behoove an agitator to dance. Certainly not with such reckless abandon, anyway. It was undignified for one who was on the way to become a force in the anarchist movement. My frivolity would only hurt the Cause. I grew furious at the impudent interference of the boy. I told him to mind his own business, I was tired of having the Cause constantly thrown into my face. I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from conventions and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy. I insisted that our Cause could not expect me to become a nun and that the movement should not be turned into a cloister. If it meant that, I did not want it. “I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everybody’s right to beautiful, radiant things.” Anarchism meant that to me, and I would live it in spite of the whole world--prisons, persecution, everything. Yes, even in spite of the condemnation of my own comrades I would live my beautiful ideal.[146]

Since Goldman wrote about this a century ago, this kind of policing has continued, but in new and different ways. While Maoism and Leninism were ascendant in radical politics, it took the form of maintaining an explicit party line. With the decline of these ideologies, rigid radicalism has shape-shifted into new forms. One of the ideological tendencies animating anarchist and anti-authoritarian spaces is what amory starr calls “grumpywarriorcool.” Rather than the militant conformity of Marxist-Leninism, grumpywarriorcool manifests as an ideology of individualistic anti-conformity and anti-vanguardism. starr gives a polemical example of the “manarchist” whose “freedom” to do whatever he wants ends up reinforcing individualism, whiteness, and patriarchy:

“i’m going to stink, i’m going in there even though i’m contagious, i’m going to bring my barking dog, i have the right to do whatever the fuck i want and people just have to deal with it and i’m going to call this “cultural diversity” … meanwhile other folks around are feeling like another white guy is doing whatever the fuck he wants.[147]

She suggests that privileging individual freedom is ideological because it tends to force out potentials for connection, curiosity, and a sense of collective responsibility. In starr’s analysis, there are some continuities between grumpywarriorcool and earlier ideological forms; norms of fearlessness, self-sacrifice, and bravery, she argues, can end up eliminating space to express hesitation or fear. These intimate reflections can be transformative, but they remain hidden because it is too difficult to voice them in a climate where fearlessness is the ideal. Similarly, starr names “smart radicalism” as a fundamental premise of white, anti-authoritarian organizing of grumpywarriorcool: a commitment to radical principles and theories, a “correct” interpretation of them, and the assumption that this correctness will avoid mistakes. Forced out by these tendencies are friendliness, comfort, generosity, and curiosity.[148] Outsiders are viewed with cool suspicion.

These stories are not meant as a criticism of anarchism (or Marxism) as a whole; we are trying to locate ideological tendencies within these complex and varied traditions. At its best, anarchism has enabled the refusal of fixed ideologies in favor of experimentation, openness, autonomy, and a proliferation of different struggles and forms of life. As scott crow writes,

An abundance of literature has been written about anarchism over the last hundred years. How is it organized? What could it look like? What are examples of it in practice? There are also complex critiques and analyses of it, but, for me, anarchism is just a point of reference, a descriptive word to get one’s bearings for starting conversations that move to action. It describes an opening up of possibilities for changing ourselves and our communities. It describes a set of guiding principles and ideas, serious and playful at once, not a rigid ideology.[149]

We think this conception of anarchism—as a point of reference and an evolving set of questions—can help ward off the crystallization of fixed ideology. crow further suggests that anarchism is animated by a trust in people’s ability to solve their own problems and take collective responsibility, rather than a prescription for how they should do it. This is the kind of anarchism we are after: a non-ideological sensibility that nurtures trust in people’s capacity to care for each other and to be responsive, inventive, and militant.

[electricgaunt]

Live Blog of Interstitial Infinity #17 - The Baseball Car, Pt. 2:

s3 sailor steve and an elden rings character...only on interstitial....

pitch coach steve (ineffective) lmao

ohhh the digivolve thing is cool

agreed, Al and Winry hug is v important, thank you for the check-in about that 👍

had a bit of an out of body moment where I thought about how I was sitting in my car eating lunch at work listening to fictional baseball, lol. and i'm having a great time, no shame!!! 😤😄

shoka is so scary (positive)

i love you susie deltarune

thinking about the problematic ships question that Riley posted, there's so many new characters to consider with this car

hyrule homies!!!

the Jason and Shoka dynamic is so funny to hear after the baseball explainer bonusode akdhjajsh

nan is fun, I don't know them very well, but what I've heard is very neat

I don't know homestuck but hearing the reactions to emma's dave is very funny

dave left a corpse behind??? aaa wild

wondering now if a baseball game just has to be completed to leave the car or if only the winners can leave...guess we'll find out!

shoka and trish both sort of trying to help carrie (in their own ways) lol

IF YOU'RE SINGLE

united in trying to woo winry

ohh emma's announcer voice is a character? guessing this is a blaseball thing maybe

trish just dead on the field, god

luffy and audrey are amazing

thinking about how many of the characters in this game have never heard of baseball before now

millicent mistaking some monster factory'd character for kris deltarune is amazing

Al formally introducing Audrey to Winry, and Shoka butting in akhjajsh

Wow Women Moment

bring steve in!!!

steve's baseball bat trauma is real

remembering that Trish's body and Dave's corpse are just lying on the field (angels in the outfield, corpses in the infield-)

team photo 🥺

ohh shoka got her number!!

I COULD CUT OFF AN ARM, I COULD LOSE AN ARM

shadow went for Ed (at least in the poker bonus ep) and now Shoka is going for Winry, none of Al's siblings (pseudo or otherwise) are safe from Riley characters 😄

oh lol being knocked out will not stop Trish

oh this Carrie and Trish conversation is very sweet and funny, aw

heart link Trish and Mob, hell yeah

if steve ever goes home, he's now met several more psychics that he could tell el about

ohhh JoJo stand for Carrie!!! that's so cool!!!

Carrie has joined the party!!!

oh my god shadow letter in a bottle aaaa

😭😭😭

im sad,,,,

good game!!! 😭⚾😭💚

[storyofmychoices]

A Sweet Surprise

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist] 

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: ~1,000

Rating: general (all the sweet fluff)

Prompt: @choicesjuly2023challenge trophy spouse (kind of?); @choicesflashfics "I hope you know by now how much you mean to me"

Synopsis: Bryce helps Olivia surprise her pediatric patients with a cool, sweet treat.

"Alright, everyone, I have a special surprise for you today!" Olivia announced, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She led a group of curious children into the therapy room. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she gestured toward the art tables covered with colorful plastic table clothes that bulged, signaling something was hidden beneath.

The children's eyes widened with anticipation as they gathered around the table, unsure of what to expect. As Olivia dramatically pulled away the sheet, revealing the summer treat, a mix of confusion and curiosity spread across their faces.

One of the kids scrunched up his nose in disgust, pointing at the vibrant display, "What is it?"

Another child asked hesitantly, "Is it some kind of fruit salad?"

Olivia couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions. "Nope, it's not a fruit salad," she replied, her smile growing wider. "It's something even more special – Watermelon Pizza!"

Her announcement was met with a chorus of "wows", "huhs", and "what's thats?"

"Eww, it sounds weird!" Matteo was still skeptical and unsure of the treat.

Olivia chuckled warmly, kneeling down to his level. "I know it might sound strange, but I promise it's delicious and fun!"

Amaya, a young patient sitting beside him, had her reservations too. "Is it like a regular pizza with fruit on top?"

"Well, not quite! Instead of dough and cheese, we use watermelon as the base, and the toppings are all your favorite fruits – strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, peaches, pineapple, and kiwi!"

The kids exchanged curious glances. "I do like blueberries," Matteo decided. 

"I do, too!" Amaya cheered. "And peaches... mmm!"

"Well, that's the cool thing about watermelon pizza—" Olivia's voice was quiet as if she were sharing a special secret with just the two of them. "—you can customize it with any fruit toppings you like!" 

Marissa, a brave nine-year-old picked up a watermelon slice with pineapple, kiwi, and strawberries. Hesitantly, she took her first bite. Her eyes widened in surprise, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Mmm, it's so juicy!"

The other kids followed her lead. Their initial uncertainty turned into excitement as they tried the different types of watermelon pizza combinations that Olivia had prepared. Some couldn't get enough, taking seconds and thirds, while others savored their first slice.

Olivia watched with joy as the therapy room echoed with laughter and chatter. "Trying new things can lead to wonderful surprises!" 

"Thank you, Dr. Olivia! You're the coolest!" Emma smiled, holding another slice of watermelon pizza. "See what I did there? Coolest like the watermelon because it's cool."

"That was very clever, Emma." A soft laugh slipped from her lips. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, but I can't take all the credit." She gestured down to the other end of the table, where Bryce prepared some custom watermelon pizza orders. "Dr. Bryce helped too! We finally found a meal that even Dr. Bryce could make," she teased, saying the next part a little louder, knowing he'd overhear. 

Bryce pretended to look offended, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "I'm a decent cook!"

"I'm not sure we're at decent yet, but we're working toward it." Olivia laughed, giving him a gentle nudge as she moved beside him. She shook her head playfully at his continued feigns of disappointment. Her voice quieted, "You're amazing at many other things." 

Bryce raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Any particular things coming to mind?" He teased, his fingers caressing hers between them. 

Her face warmed under his darkening gaze. She took a breath composing herself as she looked at the delighted faces before her. "Cutting things," she decided. "Your surgical precision was exactly what we needed to cut all the toppings for our pizzas today." 

After a moment of consideration, he tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear. "I'll take it." His voice lowered, "Perhaps later though, I can hear more about the other things I'm supposedly amazing at." 

As she finished her second slice, Amaya hurried over to Dr. Bryce for a third slice. "This time can I have pineapple and blueberries and maybe a strawberry on the side."

"You got it!" He happily took her plate, making her slice just as requested.

"Are you gonna marry Dr. Olivia?" Amaya asked as she waited. 

Bryce chuckled. "Yes, I am!"

"Will you be Mrs. Dr. Bryce then?" She questioned, eyes wide. Before Olivia could reply, the young girl continued. "I think you should be Mr. Dr. Olivia instead," she nodded in agreement with herself as she gave Bryce her attention again. "Dr. Olivia is the best, so if you want to be the best, you should be Mr. Dr. Olivia instead." 

His smile widened as he gazed in awe at his fiancée. "I think you're right. Dr. Olivia is pretty special. I'd be honored to be Mr. Dr. Olivia."

"Good!" Without another word, Amaya took her pizza and went back to her seat. 

"You're sweet for going along with her," Olivia mused as she helped organize the remaining toppings. "Thanks for helping today." 

"I meant what I said, Liv." He took her hand, his thumb brushing beneath her engagement ring. "You're incredible, and it would be an honor to be your Mr. Dr. Olivia."

"Is that so?" She asked curiously as she laced her fingers with his.

“I hope you know by now how much you mean to me,” Bryce confessed, his eyes never leaving hers. "It'd be my greatest privilege."

"Well then," she began, not even trying to temper the growing smile painting her features. "I'd be honored to have you as my, Mr. Dr. Olivia."

"I love the sound of that." Bryce leaned forward, closing the gap between them, brushing a tender kiss on her cheek. 

He wrapped his arm around her, in awe that someone as amazing as her was his. The pair treasured the moment as they watched the joy on the children's faces as they laughed and chatted, enjoying their sweet surprise. 

This gave me she's Barbie, he's just Ken vibes. Even though our beautiful Bryce is so very much more, but to those sweet kids, Olivia is everything ❤️

Thank you so much for reading. I hoped you enjoyed this little fluffy piece. It kind of originated from this ask.